


be honest with yourself and i will too

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Depression, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6053398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryan starts to notice how Monty looks at Miller, and he doesn't like it. Miller doesn't like it when his boyfriend tells other people to stay away from him.</p><p>A Monty Green character-study, Monty x Miller</p><p>Angsty as hell but it has a happy ending, canon compliant!</p>
            </blockquote>





	be honest with yourself and i will too

**Author's Note:**

> Based on, as always, an anonymous Tumblr prompt. While exploring Minty things I realized I had a lot of love for Monty and then this sort of happened and I broke my own heart. BUT it's okay, it's good to have these talks kiddos. 
> 
> Sort of takes place in canon? It's after the war-ish, and there's no mention of a City of Light because who cares it's fic.
> 
> We don't know a lot about Bryan so I don't think he'll be a lot like this, but we won't know until he gets more screen time. Hope you like it!

There was something about Nathan Miller that was particularly fascinating to Monty. Something Monty couldn’t quite figure out.

It might’ve been something in Miller’s smile, the soft quiet ones that snuck out when he forgot he was supposed to be angry and bitter at the cruelty of earth. Or it might’ve been his eyes, normally dark and cold except when he was unguarded, thinking. It might’ve been the way he licked his lips before his mouth broke into a smile. It might’ve been his laugh, the one that erupted from him as though he’d been holding it in for too long – bright and sudden and warm.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before pulling on his guard uniform, like he knew he had to do it despite his reluctance. Or the way he carried a gun, like it was burning his hands but he couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It might’ve had to do with the way he read, late at night by the fire, his eyes rapidly skimming the words stretched out on the page before him with a smile tucked on his face. Or the way he reached out to Bellamy when things became too heavy for words, Miller offering his silent comfort. Maybe it was the way Miller sat by Monty’s side, offering quiet (so quiet, words meant for only Monty) encouragement after a long day.

The truth was it was all of these things. It was how Miller, despite his sharp edges and biting tongue, could still somehow be soft. He was fascinating. There was no other way of putting it.

Monty spent too much of his time trying to figure him out.

It started with quick glances but somehow had evolved into… something else. Staring. Thinking. Analyzing. _Hoping_. For a chance to unravel him from up close rather than afar.

Harper snapped her fingers in Monty’s face, pulling his attention from Miller across the room. She gave him a look that read _you’re staring again_ , and Monty immediately looked down at his hands. That was the problem though, wasn’t it? That Monty _couldn’t_ get close to Miller, not like he wanted.

Monty’s eyes flickered up just in time to catch the tail end of one of Miller’s smiles in response to something Bryan said. His boyfriend. Monty sighed, sinking backwards in his seat slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured to Harper.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” Harper said. “I’m just trying to keep you from getting your heart broken.”

Oh, but he was already there. He was already there.

* * *

Monty spent a lot of his time in the hangar that Abby and Kane had sanctioned for the delinquents. Everywhere else felt too large, too loud. There were too many people constantly moving, constantly talking, constantly growing. Monty felt small a lot of the time these days. And in the hangar he could work.

Raven joined him most of the time, the two of them tinkering with their respective devices in silence, but most of the other time he was alone. Bellamy was off being a leader (or crumbling to pieces), Jasper was off drinking himself into a coma (not to death, not to death), Clarke was in Polis (gone for good, it felt). Monty felt _particularly_ lonely after he got his own tent, away from his mother. God, he loved her. Of course he did. But she’d joined Pike’s group and no amount of conversation was changing her mind. And listening to her rant and rave about the Grounders, about their impending death, he just couldn’t do it.

Harper had offered letting him bunk there but she and Monroe had just gotten together and it felt like an intrusion. Monty made do. He always did.

Today he was alone. Sometimes Raven’s chronic pain was too much for her to get out of bed, and after checking on her this morning and bringing her a cup of peppermint tea he retreated to the hangar, giving her the space she asked for. Monty was in the middle of stripping an old control board for the pieces and parts when he heard footsteps.

Thinking it was Raven he looked up with a smile, surprised to find Bryan standing in the doorway of the hangar. His hands were by his side, his face passive, and Monty was immediately confused.

“Hey,” Monty said, lowering his screwdriver. “Lost?” he asked.

“No,” Bryan answered. “I was looking for you.”

Monty’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Jasper okay?” he asked. Because that’s what it usually was. Jasper would end up on the ground, forgotten, and someone would find him. And Monty would coax him to a semi-sober state before taking him to his tent and tucking him into bed despite the heckling and groaning on Jasper’s part. “Where is he?”

“No, he’s—that’s not why I’m here.”

Bryan and Monty weren’t exactly friends, but that wasn’t because of anything important. They were a few years apart and had always been in different classes back on the Ark, always working different shifts in the work rooms on Agro Station. And here on earth, even though Bryan and Miller were together, they just ran in different social circles. They’d never… talked. Not like this.

The air felt thicker, for some reason.

“Everything okay?” Monty asked with an eyebrow arched. Bryan hesitated, lifting his hand to push his long brown hair from his face, before walking into hangar. His steps were made with purpose despite his reluctance to enter. Something twisted inside of Monty’s chest and he stood a little straighter. “Miller alright?”

“He’s why I’m here, actually,” Bryan said.

Monty’s mind was suddenly racing a million miles a minute. Was Miller on guard duty this morning? Last night? Monty didn’t know his schedule very well, and attacks seemed to get more frequent since Pike took out the Grounder army that had meant to protect them. Had he been shot? Taken hostage?

“What is it?” Monty asked through a voice that was incredibly too tight.

Something passed over Bryan’s face that took Monty a moment to identify. He looked _angry_. “He’s fine,” Bryan told him. The relief that popped inside of Monty only lasted for a second. “But I see how you look at him.”

Monty’s eyebrows came together of their own accord. “What?”

Bryan exhaled sharply. “I _see_ how you _look at him_ ,” he repeated tersely. “And it’s not okay.” Monty blinked hard. “What’s going on with you two?”

Monty blinked again. “What?” he asked another. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play stupid,” Bryan muttered. “Because we both know you’re not _stupid_ , Monty.” Monty felt heat crawling up his neck, closing his throat. “Are you into him?”

“Of course not,” Monty instantly said. “We’re friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“We’ve been through a lot together,” Monty added, looking down at the control board. He couldn’t look at Bryan, not with this lie in his mouth. “He’s been a good friend, that’s all.” Bryan clicked his tongue. “I’d never…” Monty started, trailing off. “I’d never do anything to—” Monty stopped when Bryan sighed, shaking his head.

“But you _are_ into him?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” Monty said. There was a smart remark buried somewhere in his brain, under layers of blue that had filled him to the brim since Mount Weather. He just couldn’t find it. “Like I said, I’d never—”

“Stay away from him.”

Monty flinched. “Excuse me?”

“Stay away from Nate,” Bryan said. “Or so help me, God.”

A laugh escaped Monty before he could stop it. “You’re joking. This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” No. It didn’t look like he was joking. In fact Bryan looked farther from joking than humanly possible. His hands were balled into fists at his side, his jaw was clenched. “I waited months for him,” Bryan bit out. “He’s all I’ve got left. You can’t have him.”

All of the air rushed out of Monty in one breath. “Bryan,” he tried.

But the boy shook his head. He tipped his chin back making him appear taller. There was something dark in his eyes. “You heard me,” he said.

And then he was gone, marching out of the hangar, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty room.

* * *

_He’s all I’ve got left._

The words bounced around Monty’s skull for hours, the sadness and desperation that were hidden in Bryan’s voice becoming more prominent with every minute that ticked by. Soon he couldn’t focus on his work anymore. The tools kept slipping and his fingertips were aching from the contact with the circuit board.

 _Stay away from him_.

That would be easy, Monty thought. Besides when with Bellamy, or maybe late nights at the fire when everyone else had gone to bed, he and Miller didn’t _really_ see that often. They had different schedules. As long as Monty kept his head down and kept to himself he’d be fine. And he was getting good at that. Keeping to himself.

One day passed, and Monty found himself in the hangar with Raven. Every time he tried to talk to her she’d snap at him, clearly still suffering pain, so he couldn’t hold it over her.

Another day passed and Monty was scooping Jasper off the floor, guiding him to bed. “Murderer,” Jasper slurred. “I hate what you’ve become.” Monty left a cup of water on the table by Jasper’s bed for when he woke up.

A week flew by and Monty was barely present, listening to Octavia rant about the poor choices that Bellamy had made without able to provide her some sort of comfort. Harper seemed to see something was off but she and Monroe had guard duty and training most days, so they only really saw each other for meals.

A few more days and Clarke came and left again, again without a goodbye. But to be fair, she hadn’t said hello. He didn’t even know Clarke was there until she was leaving, too important for a minute with someone as broken as Monty.

He seemed to shrink into nothingness as every day passed, and that was okay. He worked until his fingers were raw. He stayed awake until his eyes burned and exhaustion overtook him. He hid out in the hangar. Monty’s entire body felt wiry, like a cage that was constructed poorly, and his insides were just waiting to seep out and leave him without any reason to carry on.

But still he moved. Keeping his mind busy. Ducking his head when he noticed Miller walking in his direction. Swallowing the bitterness that perched on his tongue. Part of him wanted to scream, demand why no one cared. The other half told him it was better this way. Alone. Where no one was left to break his already broken pieces.

He was doing pretty well until he was taken by surprise, hiking his backpack up over his shoulders as he waited by the gate for his assigned guard to take him to the dropship to collect more parts. He’d gone a million times before but Kane insisted that no one leave Arkadia alone, and Monty didn’t mind having someone at his back. But when he turned to find Miller striding over toward him while he adjusted his vest over his chest. When their eyes met a smile graced Miller’s face and Monty’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

“Hey,” Miller greeted him brightly. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Dad said you were going out to the dropship and I volunteered to cover you. That okay?”

“Sure,” Monty forced out, nodding slightly.

Miller tipped his head to the gate and the guard on watch allowed them through. They’d only been walking for a few minutes, quiet careful steps into potentially dangerous territory, when Miller cleared his throat. “So is there a reason you’re not talking to me,” he wondered, “or are you just feeling particularly quiet today?”

Monty frowned. “Have to listen for Trikru,” he murmured.

“Bullshit,” Miller returned. But still, Monty didn’t speak. Another five minutes passed. “I wrote off not seeing you on the fact that you were busy. But you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

Monty kept his eyes on the ground so he could watch where he was stepping. “Why would I be avoiding you?”

“Beats me,” Miller muttered. “But Arkadia’s not all that big. You’ve got to _try_ to not run into someone.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Bullshit,” Miller said another time.

But he didn’t press the subject. They moved in unified silence, falling into step with one another as they made their way through the forest. Monty’s throat felt like there was something lodged in it and no matter how many times he swallowed it wasn’t going anywhere. Every now and then he’d risk a glance in Miller’s direction, surprised to find his face tense. Like from those first few weeks when they’d first landed. Like he had walls he didn’t want anyone to climb over. Before he was fascinating. Before he was the Miller Monty knows now.

Eventually they arrived to the dropship and a whistle of guilt rocketed through Monty. He paused to take a deep breath as Miller traversed off to the graves they’d buried there months before, most likely to pay respect. Monty watched him go before looking back across the area, the hill where Jasper’d fallen asleep weeks ago after drinking, where he’d carried Finn’s ashes, where he broke down in sobs after breaking Monty’s heart.

With another deep breath Monty crossed to the dropship, slipping in through the door and starting up for the top level, climbing the back ladders slowly, weighing each step like it was something powerful. He wasn’t there long, working to break boards and wires from the walls, before Miller arrived again. He climbed through the hole in the floor before heaving himself up and crossing his legs under himself, watching Monty work.

“You ever wonder how different things would be if Wells was still here?” Miller asked.

Monty’s heart felt heavy again. “Sometimes.”

Miller was quiet a minute. “We were friends. Back on the Ark.” Monty glanced over his shoulder at Miller, finding him with his eyebrows knit together. “We played chess a lot.”

“So you _lost_ chess a lot, is what you’re saying.”

Miller’s eyes flickered to Monty before a smile graced his face. “Is that a joke?” he asked. Monty whirled back to the wall he was dissecting. “Did Monty Green just make a _joke_?” he asked. “I _wondered_ if you were still capable of that. Teasing people.”

Monty let out a strangled sort of laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Miller said, leaning back onto his palms as he watched Monty work. “I feel like I haven’t seen you smile in months, let alone hear you make a joke.” Monty glanced over his shoulder again, but only for a moment. “What’s going on with you?” Miller asked. Monty yanked hard, dislodging the panel from the wall that he was working on to have better access. “Monty.”

“Nothing.”

Miller scoffed. “You’re a shitty liar,” he said.

“So be it.”

“ _Monty_ ,” Miller stressed again, but still he was silent. “We’ve been through enough shit together that I figured you’d be able to be honest with me. Guess not, huh?”

Monty’s insides were knotted with guilt. Would a day ever pass in which he wouldn’t feel guilty?

He focused on his work, knowing this was the only way he’d be able to get the words out. “Bryan told me to stay away from you,” Monty finally said. “So that’s what I’ve been doing.”

The silence was humming with electricity before Miller asked, “What?”

“And honestly,” Monty carried on, “it’s probably better this way anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Miller nearly snapped. “He told you to stay away from me?” Monty continued to work, focusing on the wires before him. Solid. Whole. “Will you fucking look at me?” Miller almost shouted, and his voice was laced with so much confusion that Monty couldn’t even try to ignore him. He spun to face Miller, finding him still on the ground with a look of complete and utter heartbreak on his face that Monty wanted to collapse. “I don’t understand,” Miller said clearly, though his voice was weak. “So explain.”

“He figured out how I feel about you,” Monty said. He didn’t have time to come up with a plausible lie, and screw it. He’d already ruined any relationship he had with anyone on this planet anyway. Why not push Miller away once and for all? “So he asked me to stay away. And I did. Because you’re all he has left, and—not that I’d ever do anything to ruin what you have, but—”

“How you _feel_ about me?” Miller cut him off. The space between them felt infinite. “Monty…”

Monty grit his teeth and went back to work. “Don’t do that,” he grunted. He could hear it in Miller’s voice. The pity. “It’s fine, Nate. I don’t need—it’s fine. And whatever. It’s better this way.”

“Better this…” Miller’s voice was quiet like he was repeating the words to himself, trying to understand them. Monty completely ignored him, pouring all of his attention into the board he was stripping pieces off of. “How long?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Monty shot back. “He doesn’t—he was right, he doesn’t have anyone but you. So it—”

“And who do you have?” Miller cut him off again, anger in his voice. Monty spun around at that. “With Clarke off being fucking _Wanheda_ and Bellamy making the worst fucking decisions possible and Raven pushing everyone away and Jasper—who do _you_ have, Monty?” His voice was full of pain that Monty could _feel_ it. “This isn’t—it’s not a fucking competition of who has more people. We stick _together_. He can’t tell you to _stay away_ from me.” Monty couldn’t stop staring at him then, the way Miller’s eyes were bright with emotion, the intensity in his gaze. The way his lips moved as he spoke. The power behind his words. God, he was so much. Miller was so _much_ that Monty wanted. More than Monty deserved. His throat felt dry. “I don’t give a shit what Bryan said,” Miller murmured. “You don’t get to stay away from me.”

Monty’s eyes began to burn.

He turned from Miller and quickly started working again. He blinked hard, willing himself to stop tearing up. He needed to get out of this dropship. He felt like he was suffocating. His fingers kept fumbling and finally he paused, squeezing his eyes shut completely as he tried relearning how to breathe.

When was the last time someone said something like that to him? Fought for him in some way? It must’ve been Jasper, forever ago. In a different life. Because people didn’t fight for this new Monty. The one who’d helped orchestrate a massacre. The one who kept to the shadows because no one seemed to want to be around him or even notice he was there. But Miller…

Monty jumped, suddenly feeling Miller behind him. “Hey,” Miller said softly. His breath was warm against Monty’s neck. “Monty.” His voice was so gentle, entirely too gentle. “It’s okay,” Miller told him. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. Not at all. Monty had been broken and there was no coming back from that. He’d been abandoned, he’d been shouted at by people he cared for, he’d been pushed away. “Monty,” Miller tried again.

And then Miller was tugging Monty toward him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. As though he knew he was broken. As though he was trying to pop the pieces back into place. Monty was shaking as he turned into Miller’s grasp. And then Miller was readjusting his grip on him, holding Monty close, cupping the back of his head as he buried himself into Miller’s neck.

 _It’s okay. It’s okay._ Miller said it again and again, softer and softer, a whisper just for Monty’s ears. _You’re okay. I’m here. It’s okay._

And it wasn’t okay, Monty knew that. But somehow, in Miller’s arms, it felt like it could be.

* * *

“It wasn’t just you.”

Monty looked up from where he was working at Miller who was sitting in the stool across from him. It’d been a week since the dropship and he’d been insanely present, sitting with Monty and Harper and Monroe at meals, sitting with them by the fire at night, joining everyone in the hangar.

Raven seemed to be around more too, the pain in her hip still pretty bad but still workable. And Monty wasn’t sure what happened but Jasper had even gone to Medical and Abby was giving him some sort of medication. Things weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but they were slightly better.

It was just Miller in the hangar with him now though, taking a break before having to go back on guard duty. Monty pursed his lips before his fingers started twitching again.

“What are you talking about?” Monty asked.

Miller hesitated. He licked his lips as he was piecing together the words he wanted to say. “Bryan… said that you were always looking at me.”

Monty’s attention immediately went back to what he was working on. Miller hadn’t brought up Monty’s confession at the dropship but he knew he wouldn’t get off that easy. He hadn’t acknowledged it in their time together since but Monty knew it couldn’t just go back to how it was. Especially after he caught the tail end of a fight inside Miller’s tent a few nights ago.

It had been so loud that Monty heard Miller from yards away, his voice laced with disappointment. “You don’t get to _do_ that,” Miller had snapped. “You don’t get to _tell_ people to stay away from me! You’ve been through your own shit I get that but you’ve got no _fucking idea_ the shit we’ve been through too!” Monty had faltered in his step. Bryan’s voice hadn’t been as loud, just a murmur, but then Miller was shouting again. “You think I give a mother fuck about _that_? You leave Monty the fuck alone or I swear to _God_ —”

Monty ran then. And pretended he didn’t hear it.  

“Nate,” Monty started, focused on the present and not the argument he’d overheard. “You don’t have to…”

“I talk about you all the time.” Monty’s fingers slipped. “I didn’t even realize it until he pointed it out to me. So you’re not completely to blame.” Monty wasn’t moving his hands anymore but he couldn’t look up from the device he was working on either. “It wasn’t just you.”

Monty didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

* * *

Clarke returned home a week later, and this time it wasn’t under any weight of war. She was just… home. She didn’t look like herself (her hair was pleated, full of pink streaks, and her eyes were dark and empty) but she sounded like herself. When Monty entered the hangar to find her sitting there next to Raven, he felt the world rush out from under him.

Clarke stood and offered him a smile and before he could even move she was running to him. Clarke pulled Monty into his arms and hugged him tightly. It was a different sort of hug than the one Miller gave him at the dropship. This was a hug of relief.

“You’re home,” Monty croaked, and Clarke pulled back as she nodded. “Are you staying?”

“You better believe it,” Raven chimed. “Fuck Wanheda. We’ve got our Princess back.” Monty wavered before a smile found his face. “Can I get you to look at this?” Raven asked, motioning Monty over. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Clarke though, here, real.

“You’re staying,” he said another time. He needed _Clarke_ to say it.

“I’m staying. I shouldn’t have even left,” Clarke told him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, and Monty covered it with his own. “It’s so good to see you, Monty.”

* * *

Clarke wasn’t heaven sent. She wasn’t a cure. But her return to Arkadia really  _did_ change things. Pike was officially removed from his role of Chancellor and it was given back to Kane, with Clarke as one of his advisors. Bellamy repented and agonized over the choices that he made. Octavia forgave him, though it took more time. Monty moved back in with his mom. Jasper learned to smile again.

He wasn’t sure when things changed so drastically, it must’ve been weeks at this point, that he could sit so close to Miller and not even think about it. Their shoulders pressed together as they laughed at something Monroe said as they all sat around the fire. The feeling of his fingers brushing Monty’s in the cool night.

Monty tipped his head in Miller’s direction before he laced their fingers together completely. “Nate,” he murmured, soft enough that only he could hear.

Miller and Bryan had ended things a few weeks ago. Monty didn’t know the details, and he didn’t want to, but he knew snippets. There’d been yelling involved, both parties playing the blame game and using the guilt card. It ended in a hug, a promise to stay friends.  

Miller tightened his hold on Monty’s hand, “Hm?”

 _Don’t pity me_ , Monty wanted to say. _I don’t want this if it’s not real._

Instead Monty asked, “Walk?” Miller nodded, and together the two of them stood. Monty could feel Clarke’s gaze on them as they walked away, a tiny smile on her face as she reached for Bellamy’s hand. Soon they were away from the fire, away from their friends. Miller pulled Monty to a stop as they reached the gate. With his freehand he reached forward, cupping Monty’s cheek and tipping his chin back slightly. “Why?” Monty asked.

“Why what?” Miller returned. “Why _you_?”

“Everyone else…” Monty started, but trailed off. He wasn’t sure where to go with that. Monty wrinkled his nose and tried to look away but Miller tugged him back, his warm eyes still on Monty’s. “I don’t deserve it,” he finally said.

Miller licked his lips before a grin broke his face. “No?”

“No,” Monty said.

“You sure?” Miller asked, leaning in slightly.

Monty frowned at him. “Just because I don’t deserve it doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ it,” he muttered. A laugh more brilliant than the sun escaped Miller then, it was enough to tug Monty’s lips upwards too.

“There you are,” Miller murmured. Monty wrinkled his nose again but he couldn’t fight the small smile Miller had led him to. Miller pressed his forehead to Monty’s, his eyes lingering on Monty’s lips. “You deserve it,” he told him. The conviction in his voice made Monty want to believe it. “If _anyone_ deserves it, it’s you.”

Monty’s breath hitched. A smart remark pushed its way to his mouth, “Sure are fond of yourself, aren’t you?”  

Miller was grinning again, shaking his head ever so slightly. They both knew Miller hadn't been talking about himself.

When Miller kissed him, Monty swore that he was melting. There was a small voice in the back of Monty’s head that was still crying out. _You don’t deserve this_. But Miller’s hand curved gently around the back of Monty’s neck, his thumb under Monty’s chin, it kept pulling him away from any protest his body was making. Miller’s stubble brushed Monty’s skin and he nearly groaned, suddenly trying to pull Miller closer. He’d wanted this for so long. To feel Miller’s mouth against his own? This had to be a dream, it couldn’t possibly be real. His warm, chapped lips moving in time with his own. His needy hands, calloused fingers, slipping under Monty’s shirt to feel his skin against his own. His breathy pants that stirred something so warm in Monty he was scared to even think about it.

Soon they were both breathless. Miller reluctantly broke away but again he didn’t go very far, choosing instead to rest his forehead against Monty’s another time. Both of his hands had ended up on Monty’s cheeks during their kiss somehow and both of Monty’s were gripping the ends of Miller’s shirt.

 _You fascinate me_ , Monty thought. Miller’s pupils were blown. His lips were swollen. He dipped down so his nose brushed Monty’s.

“I don’t understand you,” Monty breathed. Miller arched a playful eyebrow and Monty managed a laugh. “How can you be everything, all at once?”

“You flatter me,” Miller murmured before snatching another kiss. Monty would’ve given it freely.

“Unintentional.”

“You said a flattering thing,” Miller pointed out, kissing him again. “How was it unintentionally flattering? You’re rusty with your comebacks.”

“Been a while since I needed to be charming.”

Miller kissed him another time and Monty’s chest felt like it was going to explode. “Always charming,” Miller said.

“ _You flatter me_ ,” Monty echoed Miller’s words, reveling in the way his eyes lit up.

“That’s the goal.” He tipped his head back then so he could kiss Monty’s forehead, and then he reached for his hand. “Let’s get back,” he said, lacing their fingers together and pulling him back to the fire.

“Nate,” Monty hesitated as they approached their friends. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s not this simple.” Kissing is nice, more than nice, but it doesn’t repair the cracks in Monty’s foundation. It never could. Miller pulled him back toward him, his eyes searching Monty’s. “I’m not as loud as Jasper was about it, but I still…” Monty forced himself to swallow.

“I’m a patient guy,” Miller told him. “I can help you work it out. Unwind it piece by piece.” Monty just wasn’t sure. Miller’s freehand swung up again, cupping Monty’s cheek another time. “None of us are perfect,” he murmured. “If it doesn't bother you, then it doesn't bother me.”

Monty gave in, leaning into Miller’s touch. “You sure?”

“Completely.”

* * *

Miller had a smile that was saved for solely Monty, a smile that snuck out before the sun had risen and they were tangled together under the sheets like it was a secret. His eyes lit up when they found Monty, bright and excited. He licked his lips before grinning, every time, without fail. When he laughed suddenly without warning the sound of it was enough to send Monty off-kilter.

The guard uniform he wore, he did so because he had people to protect, not because he liked it. If he could, he’d stash the guns away for good. He could talk about literature from the time the sun sunk under the horizon to when it started climbing up again. Monty loved him always but especially in the quiet moments, when he could trace his fingers across his forearms and unravel him piece by piece, constantly reassessing his knowledge of the boy he shared a bed with.

He was just as broken as Monty, only in different ways. Whereas the wars and the fighting had made so many people cold, it had done basically the opposite for Miller. 

“Oh, did I tell you what Harper said to me the other day?”

They were laying in their ( _their_ ) bed, Monty having moved out of his mother's tent again but this time not due to an argument. Just for something greater to happen. Monty had his head against Miller’s chest and Miller was running his fingers through Monty’s hair, twisting and turning again and again.

“You did _not_ ,” Monty responded. “Can I guess?”

“Mmm…” Miller hummed, the low sound rumbling in his chest. Monty smiled, readjusting against him. “Sure.”

“Something about you not breaking my fragile little heart,” Monty said. “And if you were going to be an asshole to do it somewhere else."

“I think the word she used was frail, actually.” Monty smiled, tucking himself down against Miller. “And Monroe was the one to call me an asshole.” Monty laughed before propping his chin up so he could look at Miller. “Were you there?”

“Have you forgotten? I’m a genius. I know everything.”

“Genius is not the same thing as psychic.”  

“Close enough.” Miller laughed this time, and Monty pressed a warm kiss to his chest before nestling back down against him. “Love you,” Monty said softly. Just quiet enough that Miller could ignore it.

But he never did.

“Come here,” Miller said, tugging Monty in a way where he was the one flat on his back and Miller was above him. He looked at Monty with such intensity in moments like this that Monty couldn’t believe it was real. Miller tipped his chin back despite the awkward angle and kissed Monty firmly. “Love you,” he breathed back. And then Miller kissed him again, this time on his chin. And then again, across his jaw. And again, his throat. Then his collarbone.

Monty’s breath caught in his throat as Miller’s hand moved down his body, and then Monty felt him grinning into his neck. Monty wanted to take his time to unravel Nathan Miller, because Miller was certainly taking his time unraveling him.

He didn’t mind one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @madgesundersee, definitely talking about Nathan Miller.


End file.
